


Butterflies (Please take me away from here)

by orphan_account



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Feels, Final Battle, Paris is destroyed, Sad Ending, We will burn in hell together, hawk moth's ultimate attack, ladybug is writing a letter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truth is, I'm not as perfect as I appear to be. Nothing is ever as perfect as it appears to be.<br/>Two years passed and I still can't wash his scent off me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterflies (Please take me away from here)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=M.).



> (Note: Mari knows that Hawk Moth is Gabriel, but doesn't know that Adrien is Chat Noir.)

I honestly don't know what to say anymore. My psychiatrist says that I should write down my thoughts, he says that it might make my fears go away. 

But it won't make my nightmares go away.

I've once read that you should write down what plagues you and burn down the paper. I was thinking of doing that. I was thinking of ripping this letter to pieces or burning it to dust or throwing it out the window or burying it. Or putting it into the box along with Tikki's earrings for the next Ladybug to read it and bite the dust before she repeats my mistakes. But then I realized that I don't want this letter destroyed. I don't want it stored for the next generation.

I want it to go to you. 

I should introduce myself. I'll tell you my name now - you probably won't remember me. I'm Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm that awfully clumsy girl who lived above the bakery and smelt of croissants. Do you recall my appearance? Remember the happy-go-lucky girl who smelt of croissants. Can you see her? Good. Now take that image and shatter it into ten million little smoking burning pieces. 

I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, aka Miraculous Ladybug. You surely remember Miraculous Ladybug, don't you? You remember the heroine who flew across the sky and sat on the rooftops at night with her legs swinging from the edge staring at the stars. Can you see her in your head? Good. Now smash that image too. You know what's funny? People used to trust me. They should've known that I couldn't be trusted. I should've known that I couldn't be trusted! I thought that I was the best. I didn't lose a single battle, I defeated every single akuma until that day. I thought I could do anything. But you know what I did then? I fucked up.

You know, I think that if Ladybug still existed today, I think I would find her incredibly annoying. 

I still haven't decided if I'm going to tell you what happened on that day. So, I'm going to tell you something else, first. Brace yourself, this might surprise you. 

There was a boy named Adrien Agreste. Do you still remember him, or did you push him out of your memory like I'm trying to do? That's funny, don't you think? How we try to erase the people we love from our memory? We'd rather forget them then accept that they aren't around anymore. That's messed up. 

Yeah, I loved Adrien Agreste. Not his hair, not his eyes, not his fucking pictures in the magazines. I loved Adrien Agreste, the part of him that gave me his umbrella on that rainy day, the part of him that told Chloe to piss off when she stuck that piece of gum to my chair and the part of him that smiled when I intentionally brushed my fingers against his while playing games. I loved the way he moved, and talked, and blinked and lived. Now I don't even have that to love, Adrien Agreste living.

Do you think he would love me if I told him I was Ladybug? I think maybe he would, boys love hot popular girls. But that's the joke, Ladybug was a hot popular girl. I wasn't. My naive, boring, teenage self wanted him to love me for me. Guess what, he didn't. 

I treasured little moments spent with him, like when he asked me to borrow him my eraser or told me my dresses were pretty. I liked to think those casual words ment something. I treasure this morning I'm going to tell you about in a minute most of all. I treasure it deep inside my mind, so desperately that I sometimes forget all about it. Then I remember again, in my nightmares.

It was autumn. I don't remember the date.

Alya wasn't in school, and neither was Nino. You probably don't remember those two. Neither do I, really (But i do remember the Bubbler and Lady Wifi.) I sat in my desk alone. And then he entered the classroom, and flashed me a smile, and sat right next to me. What's so special about that, you're thinking. You're ginna find out in a moment. 

He didn't talk to me. He took notes and listened to the teacher carefully. I didn't. All I listened to were the sounds of Adrien Agreste living. And then, when I was walking out of the classroom when the class was over, he ran after me and said 'Marinette, yo forgot your umbrella!' and it brought me to the very first day. He handed the forgotten umbrella to me, and his fingers lingered on mine. I looked at the top of his head as he got lost in the crowd, because it was the same black umbrella that was once his. I forgot to return it. 

What's so special about that, you're thinking? Here's what: that was the last time I ever saw Adrien Agreste. I guess he's dead now, just like everybody else. 

It hurts, doesn't it? I want you to feel the pain. I want you to hurt, I want you to hurt so bad that you think you'd rather die than have all that sorrow locked inside your head. I want you to consider climbing the Eifell tower and jumping right off it, and looking forward to the moment you crash the ground and your brains spill on the pavement. 

Let's get back to the story, anyway. I want you to remember Chat Noir. You won't remember much, but I do. You don't know how he was, but I do. I'll describe him to you: he was the most alive person I ever knew. He had green eyes and he purred when he was happy, and he loved me. If he was here right now, and if I wasn't the way I am I would apologize right away for not loving him back. He would make jokes, and wink at me with the greenest eyes on the world and take blows for me even though it meant it hurt him. He shielded me with his body and comforted me with his words.

He took blows for me until the very last day- I'm going to stop talking about him now. It's too painful. 

I'm going to talk about that autumn day. I don't remember the date. Do you? You must remember it. It was the most important day of your life, just as mine. 

Do you remember how you set Paris on fire? Do you remember how the horizon burned? In case your mind erased that image, I'm going to relive it for you: Paris was covered in ashes. It lay in the cracks of the road and it filled the buildings trough the windows. It was day, but the sky was dark, gray rather than black. 

E V E R Y T H I N G W A S O N F I R E.

The sky burned with red lightnings, the skeletons of buildings burned with flames. The corpses burned with mournful, cold fire. Sparks flew with the wind like tiny mad butterflies. Chat Noir and I held hands and watched it burn. Our faces were dirty with cinder and our suits had holes in them, and they were smoking. A powerful wind brought sparks, and they crashed against our bodies and hurt. We waited.

I can't believe you brought them all back. Do I have to list all their names out for you? But somehow, you made them terrifying. The first time each of them appeared, they were dangerous. This time, they looked like death and smelt like death. Here they come:

The Bubbler. Mr. Pigeon. Stormy Weather. Timebreaker. Copycat. The Pharaoh. Lady Wifi. The Evillustrator. Rogercop. Dark Cupid. Horrificator. The Mime. Magican of misfortune. Princess Fragnance. Kung Food. The Gamer. The Puppeteer. Vanisher. Antibug. Animan. Reflekta. Guitar Villain. Pixelator. Simon Says. Volpina. Stone Heart. 

Those were fucking stupid names. 

They were on fire, too. 

I'm not going to describe the entire battle. I'm trying to hurt you, not myself. But, I'm going to tell you a few details I think you might enjoy. 

My best friend Alya literally burned to death. I watched her die, and I didn't help her because she would kill me. First her hair burned, and her clothes, and I watched her black skin turn to dust and her screams in my ears made me scream. 

Volpina tortured me with her illusions. She made me see things no one should see, not even you. And hear things no one should hear. And feel things no one should feel. 

I could feel the death of every one of one million people. 

You killed one million people. 

To save one.

And you couldn't.

Oh, yeah, my condolences for the loss of your wife. 

There's one sentence I never said out loud. I don't think I can. But I'm going to try to write it down. Chat Noir is dead.

He lay in my arms, his head in my lap, ashes stuck to his wounds. My burned fingers hurt as I stroked his hair, but I stroked it anyway. His costume was nearly completely burned off, a melted rag that clung loosely to his hips. I didn't even want to look at his chest, torn by claws and covered with a layer of burns. He couldn't scream, because he breathed in to many smoke. He only managed to moan quietly, a low raspy sound that made the screams inside my head loud. 

Half of his face was destroyed. I don't know what happened to him. I don't know what happened to those strikingly green eyes that only yesterday looked at me clear and teasing. I don't know what happened to his grin, the smile that was lit up with joy. Someone took that gaze away from me, and someone took that smile away from me.

My transformation timed out, and I found myself holding him without the mask. The tips of what was left of his mouth twitched, and he managed to utter a single word 'Mari- Mari-Nette.' My tears washed some dirt off his cheeks, and I choked on the sobs as he died. His last breath was marred with ash and fire and all the grief of the world. 

I had already lost an eye.

And that's when I did what I did. I let his corpse fall down into ash and transformed. I knew it was going to be my last transformation, because even if I lived, I knew I would never touch the earrings again. And I didn't. 

I walked back to the Louvre, where the Akumas were ravaging what was left of our city. I won't describe what happened next. I'm just going to say that I didn't ordered the people of Paris to surrender and beg for mercy like I should've. I didn't go find you and destroy the problem at its roots. I didn't fulfill my duty to my city and my country.

I killed them all. All twenty-four of them who were left. I stood above their corpses, alone in my triumph and my anger, and I realized what I've done. But by then, I had no tears left. I watched their corpses, the corpses of your tools, the corpses of my friend, and then I realized what I've done.

When Chat Noir died, there were butterflies. Pure. White. Harmless.

Ladybug hasn't betrayed just Paris. Nor just France. I've betrayed the world.

And you know what the worst thing was? 

They portrayed me as he hero of Battle for Paris. They portrayed me as the winner, as the general and as a savior. That night on the every screen in the world, people watched my image on the french flag along with words PRAY FOR PARIS. The image didn't go away for twenty-four hours. 

They thought that Ladybug died. They prayed for her soul along with every other life lost in the battle. But Ladybug isn't in heaven. No, Ladybug will burn in Hell. 

Correction, Ladybug has already burned in the Hell you've created. 

And after all, you are alive. You rot locked in your own lair, that dark, dark room with that tall blue window and hundreds of white butterflies scattered trough the air. You're going to live the rest of your miserable life in that miserable room and die there. And I'll be eagerly waiting for that day. 

This is what you've done, Hawk Moth. This is what you've done, Gabriel Agreste.

They say nothing is true until you read it black on white. And I want you to know the truth.

When I burn in hell, I hope yo burn with me. I hope we burn in hell together.

I'll be eagerly waiting for that day.


End file.
